


something easy

by Alrightbucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Grindr, M/M, One Night Stands, Oneshot, Retail, Stucky - Freeform, bucky hates his job, feelings obviously, hes bitter about everything, steve has a motel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alrightbucky/pseuds/Alrightbucky
Summary: Bucky is very bitter at just about everything until he becomes a bit too attached to a one night stand. Lucky Steve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Theres probably typos so for that im sorry.  
> The italics parts are in Bucky's POV

 

 

 

Bucky was sick and tired of just about everything life had to offer him. 

He lived in a small rundown apartment, his landlord was a real piece of work but didn’t mind him paying his rent late so it was the best offer he was going to get. He had a lousy job working in retail, spending all his time there wishing he wasn’t.  
His boss had tried to get him to _look the part_ , asking him if he could cut his hair a bit, make himself look more approachable.  
This was nothing he could enforce, so in the end he had to leave Bucky to it.  
‘Approachable’ was never something Bucky aimed to be anyway. And nobody could get him to do something he didn’t want to do. His mother had tried enough times.  
And he wore a constant reminder of her in the form of his name badge. _James._  
Nobody else had ever called him that since his mother. And he had good reason for not wanting that reminder of her.  
Bucky had come out as gay when he was 19. He’d known as far back as he could remember but he was always worried about the reaction he would get.  
It had always been just him and his mom, his father had been some kind of no good lowlife, who he’d never wished having in his life.  
Until his mom had laughed in his face at his coming out.

 _“No you’re not honey” she laughed_  
“No… mom I am, I’m gay” Bucky had been confused when she had tried to dismiss him,  
“James, no son of mine is going to be gay” she shook her head at him, “we’ll find you a lovely young girl and you’ll soon forget about this silly phase”.

The words still stung to this day, she’d tried to set him up with numerous girls and each time he’d laugh at _her_ and say “still gay mom” and she’d sigh and try to find the the next  _perfect girl_.  
Bucky had started smoking not long after he came out to his mom, and it wasn’t long till he found himself taking… somewhat stronger drugs.  
His mom held an _intervention_ which could have been more effective if somebody apart from his mom had actually been involved in it.  
  
_She begged him to get clean, but Bucky laughed._  
“Mom, I’m not an addict” he said and his mom frowned at him,  
“Yes, James you are”.  
“No mother of mine is going to accuse me of being a drug addict” he shook his head at her, “let me make you a cup of coffee and you’ll soon forget all about this”  
Clearly her own words didn’t stick in her own head as much as they had made themselves a home in Bucky’s.

A few months later she had tried to force him into a rehabilitation centre, insisting he was sick.  
Bucky had seen right through her and had yelled and screamed at her “I am gay!”  
He had cut her right out of his life after that.  
He didn’t have anyone left without her but he felt all the better for it.

So here he was at age 27, wasting his life away in a menial job, dealing with the fact that life had dealt him a lousy hand and he was determined to make the best out of it.  
He isolated himself away from people, _he worked in retail… he’d had enough of people ruining his day._  
But a couple of times a week, Bucky would finish work, amble home, stopping on the way home to buy some more cigarettes, he’d get home, roll a joint, relax for a few hours, roll up another cigarette and walk to wherever he was headed that night. He’d head home in the early hours of the next morning, chain smoking as he walked, watching the smoke disappear into the darkness, nothing and nobody else around. No distractions, just Bucky wandering in the night, a blissed out satisfied feeling as he watched the smoke dance and fade into nothing.  
He had nobody to tell him he had an addiction he needed to be rid of, no family or close knit friends to tell him what he was doing was wrong or disapprove of the way he was using Grindr to sleep his way around San Francisco.  
It had been his routine for the past few months, several nights every week, different place every night, different house, different guy.

 

 

 

 

Bucky had just finished a hell shift at work, he’d been yelled at by a snotty mom who wouldn’t accept the Princess Barbie was out of stock.  _She needed it for her spoilt bratty daughter’s birthday._ She’d then complained about the customer service and he’d been lectured about at least pretending not to want the world to burn and die.  
It had been a long day, an 8 to 8 shift was no way to live. On his way home he bought dinner. Technically Subway was probably lunch but he hadn’t eaten anything all day and anyway, he really didn’t care.  
Once he was home he sat on his tatty brown couch and smoked,  _one, two, three,_ _four_ cigarettes before he had somewhere to go.  
He wasn’t stupid, no way was he living the high life but he knew he was attractive, something that made his night time adventures all the more easy to get his hands on.  
His name was Rocker, that definitely wasn’t his real name, but Bucky was used to that. The majority of guys on Grindr used hook up names. The only reason Bucky  _didn’t_  was because his own name already sounded fake. Nobody believed that was his actual given name so he didn’t worry about it.  
  
_Rocker was great, he had hair about the same length as mine, except blonde, like, bleach blonde. The moment he took his shirt off, I kind of wanted to stop him for a second and just stand still and weep at the sight of him, he was tanned and tall, washboards abs I wanted to cry over._  
_I almost felt embarrassed when I pulled off my own shirt but Rocker looked me up and down as if I was some kind of dessert he’d waited his whole life to taste._  
_It’s kind of a beautiful thing, I get to meet these incredibly perfect men like they’ve been hand crafted just for me, I get to see them all shiny and new and then be there when their flawless bodies are drenched in sweat, Rocker had these collar bones that jutted out like they were personally out to get me, and then they became like… tiny ponds of sweat for me to dip my tongue into. Savouring the taste of the man coming undone beneath me. It’s not the most child friendly of stories, not the most magical, and my happy ending was walking home at half 4 in the morning in early frost. But it was beautiful, and my very own fairy tale. We’d both laid crashed out, falling asleep, arms and legs wrapped around each other like monkeys, his body was warm and solid beneath my hand and his face was soft and sleepy and his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat and if only I could get before and after shots because it’d definitely my favourite thing. But all the same, I woke up at half 4 that morning, it’s like my body’s trained itself to do this, I stumbled around Rocker’s room finding my things before letting myself out, rolling a cigarette as I walked home in the cold. The moon was bright, but by the time I was home there was just the tiniest hint that the sun was going to rise soon._

Collapsing onto his bed Bucky fell back to sleep, only to wake up to his alarm screaming at him less than 2 hours later.  
_Same old shitty job, new shitty day_ _._

  
Bucky spent his day at work feeling hopelessly empty, dead end job, disgusting flat that he could never motivate himself to tidy up.  
It was all well and good fucking some other guy every other night but the next morning it already felt like a dream. He wanted to  _feel it._  
That night, as if by pure habit now, Bucky found himself heading to someone else’s house. Well not a house… a motel, that’s how some of them liked to do it, Bucky didn’t judge, he wasn’t fussed about the décor of his one night stand’s god damn bedroom.

The guy was stunning. He had a photo of him without a top on and it was like a sculpture made in the heavens. He was insane.  
He said his name was Steve, one of the very few who were clearly using their own name.  
Bucky hightailed it to the motel, a still very topless Steve opening door 107. He had short blonde hair, but more mousey blonde, he had sweatpants on, but was barefoot. There something quite intimate about being able to see his feet.

 _The moment he opened the door I was more than ready to lie down at his feet and beg for mercy. I’d slept with a lot of people, but for this guy… I wanted to mean it._  
_The motel was grubby, but no worse than my own apartment. It wasn’t dark though, I almost wished it was, feeling like I had to only look at Steve out of the corner of my eye or he’d blind me._  
_It always started awkwardly, sitting side by side on the couch neither one of us sure how to make the first move. I sat beside Steve and he placed a hand on my leg and slowly moved it up my thigh. His eyes were scarily bright and in the least graceful way possible I practically jumped him, kissing him was like kissing every other guy I’ve ever kissed. (And there’s been a lot, I’d hate to see a list). Except better. He was like a craving I’d had my whole life but never really noticed and now I was finally getting a taste._  
_As I laid with an arm draped across his waist looking at his face I really wanted to see the before after shot I’d thought about before. Steve was so beautiful, when he’d answered the door he’d somehow looked squeaky clean despite the few tattoos on his bicep, forearm, and across his ribs. And now he was still breathing heavily and the tattoos were gleaming with sweat and he had crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled._  
_I’d always promised myself since the start that I would never become attached to any of them, but lying beside Steve who was honestly stunning, it felt like the elephant in the room._  
_I fell asleep at some point arms still tucked around his body, until my own body clock woke me at 4am._  
_It was hard sneaking out, dragging my body out of the warm bed, feeling a bit like I couldn’t bear to leave him._

Bucky sat up until the morning, chain smoking and rolling a joint every 3 cigarettes, work wasn’t a good distraction either, he kept wondering what he was even thinking. It felt like waiting on someone to make him a feel little more him.  
He went home at lunch time and started drinking, he already knew he wasn’t going back to work that afternoon and soon he was falling drunk and clumsy around his apartment, trying to remember where his phone had been put.  
When he eventually got his hands on it, he somehow managed to find the number for what his mind was calling _Steve’s motel_ and called them up.  
  
“I want room 107” he said and the woman at the front desk didn’t sound like she thought he was anything other than sober and sensible, “Sorry that room’s booked” she said and Bucky shook his head to himself,  
“It is booked” he said and the women took his statement as a question,  
“Yes sorry, it’s a permanent reservation” she explained.  
Bucky didn’t really pay much attention to what she had said, just started banging the phone on the wall a few times before holding it back to his ear,  
“Is this Steve?” he asked and the women on the other end figured out what he wanted,  
“No sorry, do you want to speak to Steve from room 107 sir?”  
“ _from room 107_ , what does that mean?” Bucky laughed into the phone and it was obvious the woman was trying to stifle a laugh.  
“Steve is the occupant of room 107” she explained and Bucky nodded furiously,  
“Yes, him” he agreed.  
A few minutes later Steve’s voice was coming out of the phone,  
“Hello?” he said and Bucky held the phone back staring at it in amazement,  
“It’s Bucky” he said and Bucky could hear the amusement in Steve’s voice,  
“Bucky?”  
“Yeah from the 107th” he tried to explain,  
“You’re drunk Bucky” Steve was telling him and Bucky kept nodding back into the phone.  
“an’ speaking to you from the end of the line!” he half yelled, half sang, hearing Steve swear and laugh.  
“I know, I know, I know, I know” Buck carried on,  
“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t”  
“You know what?” Steve asked him and back in Bucky’s apartment Bucky looked at the phone in disgust.  
“It’s just a phase we have to go through”  
“Bucky what?” Steve was trying to figure out what Bucky was rambling about,  
“how long shall I wait? Should I wait?” Bucky was mumbling and Steve was laying back on the motel bed now, enjoying listening to Bucky try and figure out whatever it was he was trying to say.  
“What are you waiting for?” Steve asked and Bucky pulled back the phone again to look at it like he didn’t have a clue what was going on,  
“WHAT?” he yelled into it and Steve laughed,  
“I said, what are you waiting for?”.  
Bucky hung up the phone then.  
He started looking for his coat, grabbing his cigarettes instead.

Steve was still laid on the bed, Bucky’s phone call had confused him but he was funny, drunk, but funny.  
He didn’t know why he had hung up all of a sudden but he wasn’t surprised when there was knock on the door. Well, more like a relentless banging.  
The second Steve opened it Bucky came tumbling into his room, clearly not having had his balance before the door had swung open. Laying on the floor looking more confused than Steve had ever seen anyone, Bucky started to laugh.  
Offering him a hand, Steve helped Bucky back to his feet, placing one hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.  
“So?” Steve was still kind of waiting for an explanation.  
“So” Bucky repeated him, drawing the sound out and raising his eyebrows,  
“Steve” he said and Steve nodded at him,  
“keep going” he encouraged him and Bucky nodded,  
“Yeah, I am, Steve _from room 107_ ” he started laughing again and Steve really didn’t know what to make of this impossible cute man laughing over nothing in his motel room at 8pm drunk off his ass.  
“You… are very good sex” Bucky was pointing at Steve, just to make sure he knew exactly who he was talking about.  
Steve laughed lightly, “Well I should hope so, it is my job”  
“what?” Bucky asked,  
“Yeah, it’s my job”  
“but I didn’t pay you” Bucky realised and Steve laughed awkwardly again,  
“well no, sometimes it’s more fun to do something not just for the money? You know?” he asked and Bucky shook his head,  
“is I was shelf stacking for free, I’d kill myself”, he thought for a moment, as best as he could  
“quit your job” Bucky had one hand on Steve’s shoulder, leaning in close so his face was only inches from Steve’s.  
“Quit and only have sex with me” he grinned like it was the best idea anybody had ever had,  
“why?” Steve asked and Bucky pulled a face because Steve was being so-  
“stupid!” Bucky shouted in his face,  
“I only want sex from you” Bucky tried again, dragging Steve onto the bed with him, laying down and pulling Steve to lay beside him.

 

It was barely 10 seconds later Bucky had passed out, leaving Steve to watch him sleep, he looked so peaceful, despite the whirlwind he’d brought in with him only moments before.  
That’s what he looked like. He was so cute and he looked so young and his hair was completely wild around his face, but his features looked soft, even the way he still had a box of cigarettes in his hand, and the way his grey sweater looked so soft and a bit too big on him. He was _art._ It was just about the only thing Steve could think about him.  
He put the cigarettes on the table beside the bed, pulled off each of Bucky’s shoes. Pulled his own shirt up and off over his head, and laid down beside Bucky. Letting himself fall asleep to the sound of Bucky’s quiet breathing.

The next morning Bucky woke up to the sound of Steve moving around the room, he groaned slightly, opening one eye,  
“Morning” Steve saw him and smirked,  
“Oh God” Bucky closed his eyes again but smiled a little when Steve laughed at him.  
“I’m late for work” Bucky mumbled and Steve shrugged,  
“Considering it makes you want to kill yourself is that so bad?” he asked and Bucky frowned, clearly not remembering saying that.  
“Don’t remember? Remember anything?” Steve asked him and Bucky covered his eyes with his hand as he felt the pain in his head,  
“oh god… not much… well, a bit” He opened his fingers so he could watch Steve through the gaps,  
“Don’t worry I don’t have anywhere to be” Steve said, sitting back on the bed next to Bucky.  
“You were very cute don’t stress about it” he smiled.

They spent the morning just talking and Bucky occasionally groaning in pain whenever Steve jolted the bed too much.  
Steve made him tea and gave him a lecture about how even though he was allowed to fuck people for money Bucky better not get drunk and go round strange men’s houses.  
_Double standards much_.  
Eventually Bucky dragged himself from the bed and found his shoes, apolagising yet again only for Steve to smile kindly at him and insist there’s nothing for him be sorry for.  
Bucky didn’t really want to leave. Not a second time. But as he was reluctantly letting himself out the door Steve suddenly asked him,  
“So did you mean it?” if Bucky had subtitles, or thought bubbles, it would have just been a string of question marks at this point.  
“That you… only want sex from me?” he frowned but he was smiling too…  
_fuck_  
“You know, I was piss drunk Steve” Bucky started but he was looking at Steve’s face again and he could see there was a bit of green in the blue of his eyes, and his hair hadn’t been styled but it just looked effortlessly good, and he still had bare feet, and his navy blue shirt really hugged his shoulders and he was watching Bucky look at him like he really wanted to know so Bucky screwed his face up before flashing Steve his best smile,  
“I meant it” he admitted and then closed the door behind him.

 

 

Bucky didn’t bother calling up work to explain his absence. He wouldn’t be that missed anyway.  
But the next day he had to go in.  
A 12 hour shift that made him really want to either set himself or the god damn building on fire.  He had a five minute break in the morning around 10 and was annoyed to find the kitchen _not empty_.  
Natasha wasn’t so bad, she was the one other person who vaguely understood Bucky’s annoyance at _people_. She was just better at faking it.  
“Who are all these people at 10 in the morning? Don’t they have jobs?” she asked and Bucky sighed as dramatically as he could, “we need a new plague”.

It was the shift from hell, Natasha was right, why were all these people free enough to spend their times wandering around shops.  
He sat with her during his lunch break instead of wandering around to the nearest Starbucks for coffee, the two of them discussing the worst customers of the morning.    
Some obnoxious old man had told Natasha that having red hair was a sin, “ _it’s honouring the devil_ apparently” she said with disgust.  
Bucky didn’t have anything to add, all morning, the moment someone appeared to be approaching him, he turned and headed off in the opposite direction.  
He wasn’t in the mood for some moody teenager wanting to know where the pop tarts were, or some stuck up middle aged woman wanting _anything organic, literally anything at all_.  
He thought about Steve throughout the day, he kept appearing in every corner of his mind, despite trying to make sure he didn’t. _If you’re past calls, don’t pick it up, it’s got nothing new to say._  
He was sure that was from a song but he couldn’t put his finger on which one, but it really didn’t matter anyway.  
Bucky finished work at 8pm. Walking home in the cold, he eventually arrived home, his fingers numb from having needing them to smoke.  
He crashed out on his couch, just kind of staring at the ceiling. He thought about finding some new guy to go and get laid with for the night but he thought better of it. Almost like he was expecting the call.  
The instant he heard Steve’s voice he thought he was going to be sick.  
“I don’t even know you” was the first thing Steve said to him,  
“what?” Bucky asked  
“I don’t know anything about you but you’re costing me money” he explained a bit more,  
“How though?” Bucky was genuinely confused and Steve sighed heavily down the phone at him,  
“Because I can’t see anyone without feeling guilty, I’ve been trying to keep you off my mind but, fuck it” Steve sounded almost angry at him,  
“If that’s’ because of what drunk me said, don’t pay him any attention” Bucky insisted.  
“No it’s because of what sober you said” Steve reminded him and Bucky remembered that he had said it sober too.  
“Steve just go and fuck the next easy twink you see, get it out of your system and you’ll be fine, we really don’t need to do this” Bucky felt like he was basically betraying himself by saying it but it’s what they both needed anyway.  
“Easy…” Steve repeated, “yeah okay” he scoffed before the line went dead.

Steve didn’t know what to do with himself, he found himself almost wandering around his apartment, considering doing exactly what Bucky had suggested and finding himself a new guy for the night, or a client… But as it had been for him the past couple of days, Bucky’s words rang out through his head over and over like that one tab that’s playing music and you can’t figure out where it’s coming from.  
_Easy_.  
It was completely ridiculous, like utterly beyond unbelievable, he’d seen this guy all of two times and he was blowing off his job, lounging around by himself because being around Bucky as exactly that, easy.  
He was more than a one night stand and not just because he showed up and told Steve how he basically wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.  
Steve also knew that’s not exactly what Bucky had done but how else was he supposed to interpret it?

 

Back at Bucky’s apartment, he was still laid on the couch, aimlessly picking at the loose part of wallpaper on the wall just above his head. Pulling it off the wall and not noticing the bare wood he was revealing behind it.  
It was really just his luck that he spends his days wanting everyone to simultaneously die, and nights getting high and feeling on cloud nine at whatever lucky guy’s house he winds up in, the one highlight of how he spends his time and yet he’s somehow managed to mess even that up.  
There was no blocking Steve out of his head anymore, he closed his eyes, and there were Steve’s… blue and green and beautiful. He knew he was in too deep and he’d literally only met the guy twice.  
But that didn’t matter, he already needed to see him again.  
His mother’s words kept coming back to him like a virus infecting his body, _silly phase_ , maybe he could forget about Steve if he just gave himself enough time to do so.

 

However, unfortunately for Bucky, he just didn’t have enough self-control to hide away in his apartment and wait his feelings out, so later that night, around 11pm, Bucky up and left, taking nothing at all with him- He’d forgotten his cigarettes at the motel room.  
It was a fairly short walk, and the cold wind was messing up his hair and getting right into his body, making him shiver uncontrollably, only to find the motel room, locked, and more importantly empty.

Room 107, he definitely hadn’t got that detail wrong, but still, no Steve.  
So he wound up at the front desk, who regrettably informed him that the room was empty, _the occupant hasn’t been there all day_. But she seemed to take pity on him once she recognised him,  
“Bucky right?” she asked and he nodded, his arms folded, rubbing up and down his own arms trying to warm them up.  
The receptionists’ name badge read ‘Peggy’, and fortunately for Bucky, she could obviously see how he was shaking from the cold, and slightly desperate to be let into the room, because five minutes later he was unlocking the door and letting himself into a room full of Steve’s belongings, his sweater laid over the top of the chair, a pair of shoes at the foot of the bed, there were socks on the floor, and a red and white shirt crumpled into a ball and seemingly thrown down the side of the bed.  
Looks as if he took Buck’s advice after all.

 _I looked around the room taking it all in as if it was the first time I’d been in there. Steve’s clothes trailed across the floor making my chest ache a little. There was a pad of paper and a pen on the desk, and a small doodle of a cluster of stars in the corner. The bed was made but it didn’t look like it had been made fresh, still the same bed he had slept in with Steve two nights previous._  
_It looked so inviting, just knowing that Steve’s body had laid in it. It’s such a silly thought, I felt like a 13 year old girl seeing the inside of her crushes bedroom for the first time…_  
_So I did the only thing that made even an ounce of sense, climbed into the bed._

Bucky didn’t wake later that night even when Steve crashed through the door, walking into the side of the desk and gasping in pain, he’d been home all day just pointlessly trying to find something to do before heading to the pub and drinking until he was kicked out of the damn place.  
He noticed Bucky then, doing a double take when he saw his hair fanned out against the pillow, the cover tucked tight around him like a small child, making soft snoring sounds.  
Steve kind of wanted to wake him and ask him to leave, what was he even doing there?  
But in his drunken state he simply decided to get some sleep.  
Clambering into the bed beside Bucky, Steve closed his eyes, threw one arm around Bucky’s shoulders and was asleep barely seconds after his head hit the pillow.

_It wasn’t like I did any of it on purpose, I didn’t go round there specifically to fall asleep in his bed and guilt trip into quitting his job? I didn’t even think he’d even turn up, I 100% thought I’d wake up the next morning in a half cold bed, still alone, get up and just head back to my own place? But there was nothing better than waking up with Steve’s warm and frankly phenomenal body beside mine. He stank of booze even in his still asleep to the world state but in a kind of endearing sort of way. There was nothing hot about bad breath don’t get me wrong, but maybe it was the mix of his sleeping face,  his features all relaxed and, his eyebrows were knitted together in a frown, like he was dreaming. Maybe it was the way the room was a total state, like he had definitely come in and crashed about but then decided to take off his shirt and hop into bed next to me? Or maybe it was the fact that the heavy weight of his arm was laying across my side like it was completely natural for us to lay like it. And maybe it was because the entire world had fucked me over so many times, I wanted the planet and everybody on it to combust, yet here I was looking at some sleeping god awful beauty and I wanted this particular motel in San Francisco to… not be destroyed by fire._

Steve woke up mid-morning the next day, awakened by Bucky making himself busy around the room,  
He groaned slightly as he moved, but then propped himself up slightly with his arm behind his head, watching Bucky hop around in weird circles trying to pull each of his shoes on.  
Bucky noticed him after a minute, smiling a little he raised his eyebrows at Steve, “get up” he said and Steve looked him up and down, admiring the way his hair still looked very slept in, and the way his socks poked up above the top of his shoes.  
“Why?” he asked,  
“I’m taking you out for brunch” Bucky said throwing Steve’s sweater at him.  
Brunch… Steve thought about the idea for a few seconds, considering the way Bucky was looking at him, hopeful.  
He imagined seeing Bucky across the breakfast table, he imagined coming home from a simple 8-5 job to Bucky. He imagined kissing Bucky again and sleeping beside him like so badly wanted to continue doing.  
He smiled at Bucky, pretending to debate the pros and cons in his head for a minute before answering,  
“Okay”.

 


End file.
